


Don't Fall Slow

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Sugar Baby Andre Burakovsky, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Didn't Know They Were Dating, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6368668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time they got home from dinner, Andre’d learned a couple things about Brooks: he’s Tom’s half-brother, from Tom’s mom’s first marriage.  He’s 32, a successful lawyer, and lives a couple miles away in a nice apartment in Bethesda.</p><p>He’s also really, really hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Fall Slow

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that one tumblr post about accidental sugar daddy acquisition, and that pic of brooks holding sex hair andre oh so gently on his birthday
> 
> This fic does not deal with any sort of moral/ethical implications of sugar daddy/sugar baby relationships. It's more like 'andre somehow charms a rich lawyer that loves spoiling him' so
> 
> I do not represent the real people presented as characters in this fic, nor do I make any claims about what they do or do not do in their private lives.

Andre knew that Mike would be suspicious when Andre offered to pay for his coffee.  Which – if he wanted to have a serious conversation with him, putting Mike on the offensive probably wasn’t the best way to do it.  And he does want to have a serious conversation.

“What’s up, Andre?” Mike asks, tugging his coat around him.  They’re sitting outside the SIS building, on the short stone wall.  It’s a little cold, but no one else is really out, and that makes it private.

“So,” Andre starts.  “I think Tom’s brother is hitting on me.”

Mike frowns.  “Brooks?”

“Yeah, well.  You know how he’s helping out with rent and stuff.  And he wants to hang out – like, even more than just when you and Tom are there.  And when he went with Tom to get his books for next semester, except he wanted me to come to the bookstore too, and he bought my books.”

Mike’s eyebrows fly up.

“I didn’t let him buy all of them,” Andre defends.  “It… felt weird.  But he bought me dinner, so, like…”

Mike huffs a laugh.  “You think he’s hot.”

Andre blinks. “I… Maybe.  I mean, I don’t know.”  He hadn’t thought of it, really.  There hasn’t really been a crossover in his mind of ‘people who are hot’ and ‘people who are men,’ but…

Mike nudges him.  “Just checking, it’s not… is this a creepy thing?  Is he being creepy?”

“No!” Andre yelps immediately, then looks around.  There’s still no one else on the quad, thank God.  “He’s… he’s actually pretty cool.  You know everything he’s doing to help Tom, and he’s smart, and a _lawyer_ and shit… he’s…” Andre casts around for another adjective.  “Cool.”

“Oh my God,” Mike says, before a shit-eating grin breaks out on his face.  “You _like_ him.”

“I’M NOT GAY!”  Andre looks around again, but there’s just as few people out as there were before.

“You definitely like him.”

“But…” Andre sputters.  “I’m not gay!”

“You’re gay _for him_ ,” Mike says, and nudges Andre again.  “Like me and Tom.”

“But,” Andre protests, then looks down at his coffee, holding the handle of the mug tighter.  He doesn’t say anything else.

“You could be dating a lawyer,” Mike tells him.  “Not too bad, Andre.”

“It’s Tom’s brother,” Andre mutters.  “That’s not bros, right?”

Mike scoffs.  “Like Tom’s gonna get in your way.  I’m pretty sure he’s been talking you up to Brooks since you moved in with us.”

Andre flushes and nudges the coffee stirrer in his mug.

“And you guys went out to dinner a couple times last semester.”

Andre nods and takes a sip of his coffee.  “More than a couple times?  And not just dinner?”

Mike bursts out laughing.  “You’re totally dating him!”

“No, I’m…” Andre pauses, and really thinks about it.  “ _Fuck_.”

 

.oOo.

 

It starts like this:

Andre got screwed out of on-campus housing after sophomore year, and didn’t realize it until the housing lottery was already over.  He panicked, asked everyone he knew if they had room in an apartment.

He asked Mike and Tom, two juniors in his Introduction to International Economics class and Mike shrugged and said Andre could fit a bed in the living room of their one bedroom.

So that summer, Andre bought a bed off craigslist for 150 bucks and, with some rearranging of the beer fridge and the couch they already had, he got all set up in the living room.

Mike and Tom split the bedroom.  They’ve got a queen size bed in there; they’re not really fooling anyone.

Andre went back home for the summer, to the internship he had lined up there, and got back two weeks before classes start, just in time to meet Brooks.

“Hi, you must be Andre,” Brooks said, holding out a hand for Andre to shake when he stumbles in with his two suitcases, fresh from his half-hour cab ride from DCA.

Andre shook his hand.  “Hi.”

“The third roommate, right?”

Andre nodded.

Brooks smiled, and it’s devastating.  “Tom was telling me about you.”

“Uh…” Andre said, and looked around.  “Who are you?”

“Andre, it’s my big bro!” Tom crowed, emerging from the kitchen and throwing himself over Andre.  “I told you about him, right?”

Yeah, Tom told him about Brooks, when he was telling Andre about the apartment, how they manage to get so much beer stockpiled when he and Mike are only 20.  When they’ve been drinking, he’s heard a lot about Tom’s family, his mom and dad and Brooks and _his_ dad.

“Nice to meet you,” Andre said, a little belatedly, and smiled at Brooks.

Brooks smiled back, and they stayed there, smiling a little, until Tom said, “Brooksie was gonna take me to lunch because we’re down to only ketchup again.”

“Would you like to come?  You must be hungry after your flight,” Brooks offered.

Andre blinked.  “I…” he looked down at himself.  Travelling doesn’t make him feel anything but grubby.  “I should probably shower before I’m around anyone.”

Brooks laughed, and Andre smiled.

“We can hang out and wait,” Brooks said, and Tom let go of Andre so he can go shower.  It still took him a couple seconds to get what Brooks was saying.

“You don’t have to wait!  I can… find something to eat.”  Grubhub was the answer to all of his prayers, really.

But Brooks just waved a hand.  “Don’t worry about it.  We’re stopping by the bookstore after, so I can just go through the booklist with Tom while we’re waiting.”

Andre nodded and, on autopilot, dug a set of clean clothes out of his suitcase, bringing them into the bathroom with him.

They went to lunch at Tanad, and stopped by the bookstore.  By the time they got home, Andre’d learned a couple things about Brooks: he’s Tom’s half-brother, from Tom’s mom’s first marriage.  He’s 32, a successful lawyer, and lives a couple miles away in a nice apartment in Bethesda.

He’s also _really, really hot_.

 

.oOo.

 

_I’m going to be in NW for a meeting on Thursday._

Andre’s lying in bed, the reading for his Comparative Economics Systems class that he should be doing up on his laptop, when he gets Brooks’s text.

It’s probably not normal to be texting your roommate’s half-brother this much.

_Cool?_

_My meeting’s until 5:30, if you want to get dinner once I’m done.  You don’t have class then, right?_

Your roommate’s half-brother shouldn’t know your schedule, either.  But Andre doesn’t have class, and he likes eating meals with Brooks, crisis about his sexuality notwithstanding.

_Yeah, I don’t have class.  Where were you thinking?_

_I’ll be in Dupont.  How about Floriana?_

Andre doesn’t bother looking it up.  If Brooks wants to take him there, it means the food is fantastic and Andre’s going to need to make sure he has a clean dress shirt.

_Sounds good._

Brooks sends back a smiley face, an actual smiley face and not an emoji.  Andre smiles at his phone, staring at it until the screen turns off.

Then the screen blinks on again, with another text from Brooks.

_6:00 by the metro entrance?  The one next to Krispy Kreme?_

_See you then_

Andre smiles wider and flips his phone over, burying his face in his pillow.  He needs to get himself under control if he’s going to do this reading.

 

.oOo.

 

At first, they only went to eat with Tom, and sometimes Mike, there, too.  Brooks and Tom were close, and Brooks didn’t live that far away, even if he hated driving though the DC traffic to get to their apartment.  But he made it over at least every other week, sometimes bringing something he’d cooked for them, sometimes just popping in and playing a few rounds of NHL 16 before forcing them into nicer clothes and dragging them out to dinner.

Every time Tom texted Andre saying Brooks would be stopping by, Andre hurried home.  He didn’t really think it meant anything.  He liked food, and he liked hearing from Brooks all the stupid shit he pulled in college and still managed to get into a good law school and get a good job right after graduation.

Somewhere along the line, they’d traded numbers.  Sometime after that, Brooks called him and said, “Hey, Andre.  I found a place with a good sushi happy hour just down the street from the Friendship Heights station.  You wanna go?”

“Uh,” Andre said, looking guiltily at his IR Research reading.  “Yeah.  That sounds fun.”

“Cool,” Brooks said.  Andre could hear the smile in his voice.  “I’m leaving the office now – meet you there in 20?”

That was enough time to hop on the shuttle, get the metro down to Friendship.  “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

“Great.  It’s called Sushiko, right next to the Giant.”

“Cool,” Andre said, already thinking about how much time he had to duck into the library bathroom and make it look like he hadn’t been in the library for the last five hours.

Andre closed out of his reading, still a little guilty, packed up his backpack, and booked it to the shuttle stop on the North side of campus.

It didn’t occur to him that Tom and Mike might not be there until he was sliding into the seat next to Brooks at the crowded sushi bar.  The chair with Brooks’s coat on it, that he was saving.  Only one chair.  For Andre.

“Could Tom not come?” Andre asked, picking up the menu.

“I don’t know,” Brooks said, quirking a smile.  “I didn’t ask.”

Andre paused and looked up at him.  Brooks was wearing a suit, his tie loosened, and the jacket of it over the back of Andre’s chair.  His shirt pulled over the muscles of his shoulders, just a little, and the blue pattern of his tie made his eyes almost glow.  He was growing a little bit of a beard.

“You just invited me?” Andre asked, a little astonished.

“Yeah,” Brooks said, still staring at him.  “Is that all right?”

“It’s fine,” Andre replied, blushing a little.  “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Brooks’s smile took over his whole face, and Andre couldn’t help but grin back.

“You said this place has good sushi?” Andre asked, trying to get them back on normal footing.

“It’s _great_ sushi,” Brooks said emphatically.  “The salmon sashimi, that’s got some great sauce that comes with it.  Wait, let me see what else…”

He leaned closer to Andre, putting an arm over his shoulders so he could look at the menu.  Andre’s pressed so close to his chest, and… Brooks was warm.  And solid.  And his hand felt nice on Andre’s shoulder.

“The Hamachi and grapefruit,” Brooks said, right next to Andre’s ear.

“Huh?” Andre asked, jerking a little.

“The Hamachi and grapefruit.  It’s really good.”

Andre swallowed, and nodded.  “Yeah, we should try that then.”

“You want to share some things?” Brooks asked, flipping to another page of the menu.  “There are some good rolls, too, if you like those.”

“Yeah,” Andre replied, trying to sound normal.  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

When they ordered, Andre let Brooks do the talking.  He’d given his input already, on what they should get, but Andre trusted Brooks’s taste.  And Brooks knew what Andre likes, from how many times they’d gone out to eat.

Brooks asked about Andre’s classes, how he was handling his junior year so far, almost halfway through it.  Brooks listened while Andre complained about how many papers he had to write before finals, and how many readings he had to catch up on.  Brooks talked about the cases he’d picked up, what information about them he was allowed to tell.

They talked about the food.  They talked about the restaurant, about other places they’d been in DC.  They talked about going to Zoolights, maybe, once Brooks’s trial finished and Andre was done with the two papers for his Principles of Homeland Security class.

 

.oOo.

 

Andre decided to wear a suit, this time, though without a tie.  He knows Brooks is going to be wearing some nicely tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and his nice wool coat that Andre wants to nuzzle against, and Andre wants to look… nice.

He wants to look like someone that would be out getting dinner with Brooks Laich in Dupont Circle on a Thursday night, not like the roommate of his half-brother.

It just so happens that he puts on a suit that Brooks picked out for him, that Brooks paid for, the last time they’d all taken a trip to Tyson’s Corner.

Mike gives him a thumbs up before he leaves.  Andre tries not to let the anxiety eat him on the shuttle, or the metro, or while he waits next to Krispy Kreme for Brooks.

Andre left a little early, so he’d be sure he wasn’t late.  So what.

He sees Brooks turning the corner before Brooks sees him, and it gives him time to step away from the wall he was leaning against, and straighten out his suit jacket.

And then Brooks sees him, and he lights up.  He smiles so wide, speeding up down the last stretch of sidewalk separating them.

“Hi,” Brooks says, reaching out and touching Andre’s elbow.  “Metro not too bad?”

“Not worse than usual,” Andre replies, leaning into his hand a little.

“It’s just down here.”  Brooks leads him down the street, his hand slipping seamlessly from Andre’s elbow to his back.  “I said I was looking for an Italian place around here, one of the guys in the office, Karl, recommended it.”

Andre bites his tongue on a question about Brooks looking, specifically, for a place to take Andre.  He’ll ask once they’re sitting, in the restaurant.

“It sounds good,” Andre says instead, smiling up at Brooks when they’re stopped waiting for a walk sign.

“With how hard it is to get a reservation, I hope so.”

Andre flushes and lets Brooks guide him, again, across the street and down the block, away from Dupont Circle.  They haven’t had reservations at the other places they’ve gone to eat, unless it’s the four of them for brunch.

Floriana _is_ nice, not too loud and the lights dimmed a little, candles and tablecloths on the tables.  When they get shown to their table, Brooks pulls out the chair for him.

It’s more than usually happens at their dinners together, even when it’s just the two of them.

“Did Mike tell you something?” Andre blurts out, clenching his menu in his hands.

Brooks looks at him for a second, and Andre swears he starts blushing.  “Not Mike.  Tom.”

Mike told Tom, then.  Andre groans and barely stops himself from banging his head on the table.

Brooks reaches across the table and peels Andre’s hand off the edge of the menu, holding it in his carefully.

“I thought I was being pretty obvious,” Brooks says quietly.  Andre stares at him.  “About wanting to date you, I mean.”

“You…” Andre starts, then pauses and wets his lips.  “You want to date me?”

“I do,” Brooks says.  He hasn’t let go of Andre’s hand.  “With you knowing, this time.”

Andre flushes.  “That’s what it was?  When we’d…”

“When I’d take you out to eat?” Brooks asks, smiling a little.  “Without my brother or his boyfriend?”

“You could’ve said something,” Andre mutters.

“Would you have been all right with it, if I’d asked before?” Brooks asks.

Andre has to think about it.  If Brooks had asked last semester, when Brooks just started taking _him_ to dinner and not him-and-Mike-and-Tom, then he might’ve freaked, just a little.  If Brooks had asked at the beginning of this semester, when he’d paid for Andre and Tom’s books, for the second time, then Andre still might not have said yes.  But now, after Andre’s dealt with his sexuality crisis…

“Maybe not,” Andre admits.  “I’m not gay.”

Brooks frowns a little.  “So…”

“Not usually,” Andre amends hastily.  “I’m… it’s just you.”

Brooks smiles, then, and squeezes Andre’s hand.  “I’m glad.”

Andre blushes, but he doesn’t look away from Brooks.  The candle light makes his eyes look really blue.

“So, Andre,” Brooks says, shifting his hold on Andre’s hand so they’re actually holding hands across the table.  “Do you want to date me?”

“Yes,” Andre says quietly.  Then, louder, “Yes.”

Brooks smiles wider, the one that lights up his face.  “I want to date you, too.  Have wanted to.”

Andre blushes darker.

Brooks looks at him for a smile, then traces a couple fingers around the cuff of Andre’s suit jacket.  “Is this the one I bought for you?”

“Yeah,” Andre says, shifting a little in his seat.  “I figured if you helped pick it out, it’s one I’d look good in.”

“You look good in everything,” Brooks tells him, his eyes soft.

“So do you,” Andre tells him.

Brooks is about to respond, when the waiter appears next to their table and asks if they’ve decided on something to drink.  Brooks orders a bottle of wine, and two glasses, and the waiter doesn’t even ask to see Andre’s ID.

“Is it a special occasion?  Anniversary?” she asks, once she’s listed off the specials.

“No,” Brooks says, squeezing Andre’s hand.  “Just a dinner out with my boyfriend.”

Andre grins helplessly, and the waiter leaves to get their wine.

 

.oOo.

 

One time, they didn’t go out to dinner.  Brooks was bringing some more beer for Mike and Tom, just before winter break, to celebrate the end of finals.

Andre’d just finished his Global Economic Governance final, after a solid two days in the library, and all he wanted was to shower and face-plant into bed.

Of course, that changed when he stumbled into the apartment and saw Brooks sitting on the couch with a bottle of Stella.

“Hi,” Andre said, barely even registering that Brooks was there.

“Hey, Andre.  How’d your final go?”

Andre dropped his backpack at the foot of his bed and stared at the crumpled sheets for a moment.

“Andre?”

“Hmm?” Andre said, turning to look at Brooks.

“You all right?” Brooks asked, frowning a little.

Andre sighed and dropped down next to Brooks on the couch, resting his head on Brooks’s shoulder.

“Your exam not go well?”

“I don’t know,” Andre muttered.  “I’m tired.”

Brooks put his arm around Andre’s shoulders and held him.  “Want a beer?”

“Yes,” Andre sighed.  Brooks didn’t even have to get up to get it; thank God for the beer fridge.

Tom and Mike stumbled out from the bedroom not long after, dropping onto the other couch.  Their clothes were rumpled, and their hair was messed up.  Andre wrinkled his nose.

“Done with finals, bro!” Tom exclaimed, giving Andre a noogie.  “Winter break!”

“Did you really just have sex with Mike when you knew I was sitting out here?” Brooks asked dryly.

“Well, Mike didn’t know you were here,” Tom said with a grin.

“Maybe Andre and I’ll start doing it when we know you’re sitting in there.”

Andre flushed bright red and rolled his eyes.  Brooks joked like that a lot, trying to get a rise out of Mike and Tom and embarrass Andre.

Mike and Tom grabbed beers of their own, and Andre drank his.  Then they each got another, and another, until Andre was lying flat on his back on the couch, his head in Brooks’s lap, while Mike and Tom cuddled together under Andre’s blanket on the loveseat.

“I’m gonna be hungover for my flight tomorrow,” Andre whined.

Brooks laughed and pet Andre’s head.  “What time’s your flight?”

“1:30, but I’ll have to leave at 10 if I’m taking a cab.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll drive you.”

Andre squinted up at him.  “I can take a cab, ‘s fine.”

“Seriously,” Brooks said, and smiled down at him.  “I’m not doing anything tomorrow anyway.  I’ll come get you at 11.”

“You’re the best,” Andre sighed, turning to press his face against Brooks’s stomach.  “Your shirt’s soft.”

“Thank you,” Brooks said, his hand still in Andre’s hair.

Andre was awake for a little while more, and then he fell asleep, and when he woke up he was in his bed across the room, the sheets tucked around him, an alarm set on his phone for 10:30.

 

.oOo.

 

They hold hands on the walk back to the metro, and when they’re waiting on the platform, Brooks puts his arm around Andre’s waist instead.  Andre leans against him, his cheeks flushed from the wine at dinner.

“Your birthday’s next week,” Brooks says.

Andre looks at him.  “On Tuesday.”

“Still have the Saturday after reserved for me?”

Andre smiles and ducks his head.  “Of course.”

Brooks smiles at him.  “I’ll come pick you up.”

“Can I see you Tuesday, too?” Andre asks, pressing closer to Brooks.

“If you want,” Brooks replies.  “If you want to do something with Mike and Tom—”

“Then you can come, too,” Andre replies stubbornly.

“I don’t want to make it weird with them,” Brooks says gently.  “You’re still living with them.”

“Then I’ll tell them not to make it weird.”

“Or we can start making out in front of them.”

Andre snorts a laugh, and Brooks joins in, until they’re holding each other and laughing on the mostly-empty platform.

Then Andre looks at Brooks, and Brooks leans in and kisses him gently.

Andre wondered where he would kiss Brooks for the first time, if it would be at his and Mike and Tom’s apartment, or outside a restaurant, or at the Zoo or a museum.  He hadn’t pictured the Dupont Circle metro station at nine o’clock on a Thursday night, but he doesn’t mind.  He still has Brooks, warm and solid against him, and he’s still _kissing him_.

Brooks pulls back after a moment, smiling at him.  “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Andre says, and kisses him again.  He curls his fingers in the collar of Brooks’s coat and presses against him, until Andre’s as close as he can get, and Brooks has slid his arm all the way around Andre’s waist.

The train comes and they have to break apart fast, grinning at each other as they hurry onto the train and go for the first set of seats they can find.  Andre leans against Brooks, scooting down in his seat so he can rest his head on Brooks’s shoulder.

“Your hair’s so curly,” Brooks says, nuzzling his cheek against the top of Andre’s head.  Andre just hums and takes hold of Brooks’s hand.

They have to get off at different stops – Andre at Tenleytown, and Brooks staying on until Bethesda.  When they’re slowing down to pull into the Tenleytown stop, Brooks pulls him into a kiss.  Andre gets lost in it, in Brooks’s lips on his and Brooks’s beard scraping his face.

The PA dings, starts reciting, “ _Step back to allow customers to exit.  When boarding—”_ and Andre has to hurry onto the platform before the metro doors close.

Brooks waves at him, before the train pulls away.

 

.oOo.

 

When Andre flew back into DC just before the semester started, Brooks was already at their apartment.  It was a strange mirror of the beginning of last semester; Andre still felt gross and tired, and Brooks still looked amazing in a forest green sweater and dark jeans.

“Dinner?” Brooks asked, looking up from his phone.  “After you shower.”

“Yeah,” Andre agreed.  It didn’t even occur to him to say no, or to ask if Mike and Tom were coming.  He peeked into the bedroom on his way to the bathroom, and Mike and Tom weren’t even _there_.

He showered and changed into jeans and a sweater, and walked down with Brooks to his car, and they drove down to Tenleytown to go to Guapo’s.  It wasn’t the sort of place they usually go, but Brooks said he loved their enchiladas, so Andre smiled and went.

They talked about how the weather’s been, while Brooks was still down here and Andre was back at home.  They talked about the classes Andre’s taking this semester, and the case Brooks had been working on since before Christmas.  They talked like they hadn’t been texting over the entirety of winter break.

“It’s your birthday in a few weeks, right?” Brooks asked, about halfway through their entrees.

“February 9th,” Andre said, spreading some guacamole on his tacos.  “I’ll finally be 21.”

“Do you have plans yet?”

Andre shook his head.  It was hard enough making plans with his friends four days in advance, much less four weeks.

“The Saturday after, I’ll take you out to brunch.  I know a good place on I street.”

Andre smiled at him.  “That’d be great.”

“Week before, I can see what meetings I have,” Brooks continued.  “Maybe I can take you out for a drink.”

It was then he realized that Brooks knew a good place _everywhere_ , that the places they went were usually fancy enough that Andre wouldn’t go there unless his parents were visiting and wanted to take him to a nice dinner.  And he never paid.  It was always Brooks.  When they went to Tyson’s Corner or to Old Town, Brook’s the one that paid for Andre, without even a second thought.

It meant something.  Andre knew it did.  But he wasn’t sure how he feels about it.

“The way you’re sitting, it looks like the sombrero’s on your head,” Brooks said with a laugh, gesturing to the lamp-shade sombrero hanging from the ceiling behind them.  “Let me take a picture.”

Andre nodded and grinned, letting Brooks move him until he was in the right spot, and Brooks could snap the picture.

They kept eating, and talking about their schedules over the next couple weeks.  Andre went to the bathroom while Brooks decided on dessert.

A little bit later, Brooks’s phone lit up with a new email.  Out of the corner of his eye, Andre saw the picture Brooks just took, of him with the sombrero light over his head, set as his background.

If Andre had a picture of Brooks on his phone, he’d probably set it as his background, too.

And the next morning, Andre dragged Mike to campus at 8 AM so he could freak out over coffee.

 

.oOo.

 

Brooks has a really soft bed.  Andre likes it.

They’d gone to Osteria Alba, on I street, for brunch, and the bottomless mimosas and white peach bellinis pretty much wrecked Andre.  He and Brooks sat pressed together at a small table in the busy restaurant, their knees knocking under the table top.

Brooks had just smiled indulgently at him every time Andre’s glass was topped off, and fed him bits of his waffle, and held Andre tight when they were walked out of the restaurant and across the street to Brooks’s car.  They took a picture together, outside the restaurant, with Brooks pressed against Andre’s back and both of them smiling at the camera.

And then Brooks had taken Andre home and they’d taken a nap in Brooks’s soft, warm bed, and let all the food and alcohol, that Andre had _legally consumed_ , settle.

It’s late afternoon when Andre finally wakes up, burnt orange sunlight filtering through the blinds, and Brooks’s hand in Andre’s hair.

“Hi,” Andre says, looking up at him.

“Hi,” Brooks says back, and kisses him.  Andre kisses back, still a little sluggish but waking up a little more every second that Brooks’s lips are against his.

“You’ve got bedhead,” Brooks says, combing Andre’s curls back from his forehead.

Andre wants Brooks’s hands all over him.

So he kisses Brooks again, pressing closer.  He picks up Brooks’s hand, the one not in his hair, and pulls it around to rest on his back.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” Brooks murmurs against Andre’s lips.

“You’re not,” Andre replies and presses his hips to Brooks’s.  Brooks groans and kisses him harder, his hand cupping the back of Andre’s head and holding him so gently.

Brooks breaks the kiss and pulls Andre’s head up, ducking down to kiss his neck, down his throat, until the collar of Andre’s shirt stops him.

“Brooks,” Andre moans, eyes slipping shut.  He wraps his arms around Brooks’s waist, holding him tightly, rocking tentatively against him.

“Can I take off your shirt?” Brooks asks, beard scraping Andre’s neck.

“Yeah,” Andre pants, and helps Brooks pull the sweater over his head.  Brooks rolls him onto his back, hovering over him, staring down at him.

Brooks runs his thumb over Andre’s nipple, and Andre arches up.  Brooks smiles.

“Have you…” Brooks starts, then pauses.

“I’ve had sex before,” Andre replies, looping his arms around Brooks’s neck.

Brooks lets out a breath.  “Okay.”

“You don’t have to be gentle,” Andre says.

“I like gentle,” Brooks tells him, smoothing a hand down Andre’s chest.

“Me, too.”  Andre relaxes into Brooks’s hands on him, where they’re skimming the top of his pants.  “Just saying.”

Brooks kisses over Andre’s sternum, so gently.  Andre bites his lip and holds onto Brooks’s shoulders.

“Take off your shirt,” Andre whines, pulling at the collar of Brooks’s shirt.  “C’mon.”

Brooks pulls back and sits up between Andre’s thighs, unbuttoning his shirt and starting to pull it off.  Andre can’t wait.  Brooks has freckles across his shoulders, a light dusting of hair across his chest.  Andre reaches out, pressing his hand to Brooks’s stomach.  And then he slides it down, to press against the bulge of Brooks’s cock.

“Like that?” Andre asks, squeezing gently.

“Mmhmm,” Brooks hums, leaning down over Andre again. He kisses Andre, his open shirt brushing against Andre’s chest and making him shiver.  Andre squeezes again, rubbing the heel of his hand against the bulge in Brooks’s pants.  He opens his mouth to Brooks’s tongue, moaning softly

“Want my pants off, too?”  Brooks asks, pulling back from the kiss.

“If you take mine off,” Andre pants.  Brooks grins and rolls off of Andre, reaching back a second later to undo Andre’s belt and pants, and pull them down.  Andre kicks the pants off when they get past his knees, leaving them at the foot of the bed, and pushing Brooks onto his back to get at his belt.

Brooks lifts his hips to let Andre pull them down.  Andre doesn’t play around, like Brooks had, and leave Brooks’s underwear in place.  Once he can see the waist of Brooks’s navy blue boxer-briefs, he grabs them and pulls them down with Brooks’s pants.

“Not wasting any time?” Brooks asks, a little breathless.  Andre leaves Brooks’s pants around his knees and brings his hand to Brooks’s cock, stroking lightly.

“I’ve wasted enough time already,” Andre says, straddling Brooks’s thighs and leaning down to kiss him.  Brooks kisses back, his hand sliding up Andre’s back and tangling in his wild hair, holding him close.  It’s sweet – exactly what Andre expects from Brooks.

And maybe that’s one of the advantages of dating someone a little bit older; they’re not just trying to get off as fast as possible, or even expecting you to do all the work.

“Feeling a little shy?” Brooks asks, plucking at waist of Andre’s briefs.

Andre blushes.  He’s not _shy_ , he’s just…

“I haven’t done it with a guy before,” Andre says, his hand still wrapped loosely around Brooks’s cock.

“Hey,” Brooks says, propping himself up on an elbow to get closer to Andre.  Andre swallows; he can see Brooks’s _abs_.  “You don’t have to be nervous.  We’ll go slow.  We don’t have to—”

“I don’t want to go slow,” Andre interrupts.  “And I want to.  Okay?”

“Okay,” Brooks says, his forehead pressed to Andre’s.  “I’m not trying to make you second guess.”

“I’m not second guessing,” Andre says, and to prove it, he sits up and pulls his briefs off.  He sits back on Brooks’s thighs, and, so he doesn’t have to look at Brooks’s face, he looks down.

He can see both their cocks, almost pressed together.  Brooks has more hair, covering his thighs and trimmed around his cock and balls, trailing up his stomach and thinning as it gets to his stomach.  Andre’s almost bare, except for some light hair right between his thighs.  He doesn’t know if it’s an age thing, or just an Andre thing, that makes his body look so young, younger than he feels.

He hopes it doesn’t freak Brooks out.

And then Brooks wraps his hand around Andre’s cock and strokes slowly.  Andre groans, his chin dropping to his chest.

“So nice,” Brooks murmurs.  “Perfect size.”

Andre blushes bright red.  “Not as big as yours.”

Brooks tightens his hand a little; Andre gasps and bucks into his grip.

“Perfect for _you_.  And you’re perfect, so.”

“Brooks,” Andre whines, squirming on Brooks’s lap with how slowly Brooks is touching him, and all the compliments Brooks is showering him with.

“Too much?” Brooks asks, grinning.

“Not _enough!_ ”

 Brooks laughs and speeds up his strokes, and _finally_ it’s almost enough.  Andre thrusts into the tight circle of Brooks’s hand, starting to breathe heavier, moans slipping out every time Brooks’s thumb rubs over the head.  It’s getting harder and harder to stay sitting up, his legs trembling and body tensing.

“Brooks,” Andre moans, reaching out to grab Brooks’s hand and pull it away.  “Not yet.”

“Wanna see you come,” Brooks tells him, putting his hand on Andre’s thigh instead, his thumb rubbing circles on his soft skin.

Andre shakes his head.  “Want you inside me.”

Brooks groans, a deep sound pulled from his chest.  “Andre…”

“Please.”

“Of course,” Brooks murmurs, rolling them over so he’s on top of Andre, and can lean in for a kiss.  “If that’s what you want.”

“If you want it, too,” Andre replies, looping his arms around Brooks’s neck.  “It’s not just about me.”

Brooks smiles.  “Not like you’d let me forget it.”

Andre grins back, rocking up against Brooks.  And then the grin melts away, his face falling slack and a moan slipping out at the feel of Brooks’s cock rubbing against his.  Andre hadn’t felt anything like this before, the weight of Brooks’s body above him, how Brooks can just hold him there and completely envelop him.  It’s different from sleeping with girls – and not just because there’s another penis in the mix.  It’s how he feels for Brooks, and how _much_ he feels, just as much as it is all the physical differences between Brooks and the last girl Andre fucked.

That’s another difference – Andre’s not the one fucking Brooks.  He’s played around with himself, a little bit, after he realized that he and Brooks might be a thing.  He knows he likes fingers inside him, and he thinks he’ll like Brooks’s cock, too.

“Gotta let go of me so I can get the lube,” Brooks says.  Andre pouts and lets go of him; Brooks leans over to the side and grabs a half-empty bottle of lube from the top drawer of his nightstand.  Andre eyes the bottle, a frown forming on his face without his permission.

“Just my hand,” Brooks says, noticing Andre’s face.  “No one else for a while.”

“Good,” Andre says, his arms going back around Brooks’s neck.  Then, belatedly, “Me, too.”

Brooks brushes his nose against Andre’s, making Andre giggle.  “Good.”

Andre spreads his legs and smiles up at Brooks sweetly.  Brooks huffs a laugh and kisses him quickly, before sliding down to press butterfly kisses to Andre’s neck and down his chest.  Andre arches up against him, fingers sliding through Brooks’s short hair.

“You ready?” Brooks asks, his lips pressed to Andre’s sternum.

“Yeah,” Andre breathes, bracing his feet on the bed with his legs open.

Brooks presses a wet finger to Andre’s entrance, rubs for a second, then starts to slowly thrust it in.  Andre forces out a breath, pushing back against Brooks’s finger like he’s done when he’s tried this by himself.

It slips in easily, and Andre moans softly.  Brooks has this look of concentration on his face, tongue poking just a bit between his lips, his eyes focused on where he’s stretching Andre open.

“C’mon,” Andre sighs, rocking back on his finger.  Brooks pulls it out most of the way, and thrusts back in, just as gently.  “Brooks…”

“Patience,” Brooks murmurs, dropping a kiss on Andre’s stomach.  “I want to be careful.”

“Don’t need careful,” Andre mutters, trying to get some leverage and thrust back against him.

Brooks quirks a smile and presses another finger to Andre’s entrance, and between one breath and the next, it’s sliding in.

Andre groans, his cock twitching against his stomach.  Brooks’s fingers are thicker than his own, and Brooks knows exactly what to do, crooking his fingers up and rubbing against some spot that Andre knew existed but hadn’t been able to find by himself.

“Brooks,” Andre moans, pleasure shooting through him, making him kick out and his fingers scrabble on Brooks’s shoulders.

Brooks backs off a little, focusing again on stretching Andre, scissoring his fingers.  It’s a lot easier to relax, now, than it had been by himself.

Andre wants to believe it’s just because it’s Brooks, but another, larger part of him says that it’s because Brooks has down this a lot, and knows how to relax someone easily.

“How many times?” Andre asks, driven by some weird sense of curiosity.

“Hmm?” Brooks kisses Andre’s stomach again, his fingers spreading again inside of Andre.

“How many other guys have you…”

“I’ve known I was bisexual since high school,” Brooks says softly, his fingers stilling inside of Andre.  “So…”

“A lot,” Andre finishes for him.  It’s hard to consider himself special, when there are so many people that Brooks has been with, who probably knew more about what they were doing than Andre does.

“None like you,” Brooks promises, meeting Andre’s eyes steadily.  “None of them matter.  If anything, it was practice, for once I finally had you.”

Andre bites his lip.  He wants to ask more, get more details about what Brooks has done, see if there’s something that Andre can be _first_ with just like Brooks is the first person to fuck him but –

Now’s not the time.  Now is about them, just the two of them.  Andre can wait, get Brooks drunk one night so he’ll actually tell him.

“C’mon, give me another,” he says, petting the back of Brooks’s head as some sort of apology.

Brooks smiles and thrusts a third finger in, keeping them close together to ease Andre into the stretch.

“Please,” Andre moans, spreading his legs wider.  Brooks spreads his fingers a little bit, then pulls them back together, then spreads them a little bit more.  Andre has this unbearable fondness welling up in him, at how careful Brooks is being with him, even when he listens to every single one of Andre’s demands.

“Do you think you’re ready?” Brooks asks, spreading his fingers again.

“Yeah,” Andre pants, bucking back against Brooks’s fingers and trying to get them on his prostate again.  “Yeah, Brooks, please…”

Brooks pulls his fingers out, and leans over Andre to grab a condom from his nightstand.  He rips open the packaging and rolls it on one-handed, slicking himself up quickly after.  It’s the first indication that’s Brooks is as impatient to get inside Andre as Andre is to have Brooks inside him.

“You ready?” Brooks asks again, when he’s holding his cock in place, the tip pressed to Andre’s entrance.

“ _Brooks_ ,” Andre whines, his arms around Brooks’s shoulders.

Brooks doesn’t tease him anymore.  He thrusts into Andre slowly, gently, just using enough force to thrust into him.

It’s both more and less painful than Andre had expected.  It stings a little, just around his entrance, but after that he just feels _full_.  It’s nearly overwhelming pressure, and it’s like he hadn’t realized he was missing something until he has Brooks inside him.

“You good?” Brooks pants, laying over Andre and propping himself up on his elbows next to Andre’s head.

“Yeah,” Andre sighs, shifting his hips a little.

“Doesn’t hurt?”

Andre shakes his head, pulling Brooks down to kiss him.  Brooks’s tongue presses to Andre’s lips, coaxing his mouth open and rubbing against Andre’s tongue.

And while they kiss, Brooks pulls out and thrusts in again, just as achingly slow and gently.

Andre wants to beg for Brooks to thrust faster, to fuck in harder, but he doesn’t want to break away from the kiss.

Brooks does it without him having to ask, eventually, slowly building up speed and force until Andre has to break the kiss to moan Brooks’s name.  But Brooks just ducks his head and kisses Andre’s neck, sucking a bruise just above his collarbone, his beard scraping Andre’s skin.

He’s probably going to have beard burn, with the mark of Brooks’s mouth, for days.  He’s looking forward to it.

Then Brooks shifts his hips, just a little, and he thrusts against Andre’s prostate.

Andre groans loudly, his whole body jerking and his legs drawing up.  He hooks a leg around Brooks’s waist, slipping down a little on the next thrust because of the sweat slicking both of them.

Brooks keeps thrusting into his prostate, over and over, forcing small moans out from between Andre’s lips.  Andre can feel every groan that Brooks lets out, muffled because his lips are pressed to Andre’s neck, but making the sound vibrate through him.

“Brooks, Brooks, I’m—” Andre whines, holding tightly onto Brooks, until with one final thrust into his prostate, Andre arches up and comes, his head falling back with a loud moan.

“Shit,” Brooks pants, grinding in as Andre clenches around him, and finally comes inside him.

Andre sinks back into the bed, his leg falling from around Brooks’s waist, staring up at the ceiling.  Brooks stutters a few more thrusts into him, riding out his orgasm, before he pulls out and just stays resting on top of Andre, his head still resting in the crook of Andre’s neck.

“You good?” Brooks asks, still not lifting his head.

“ _So_ good,” Andre says, tilting his head a little to rest his cheek on top of Brooks’s head.

Brooks looks up at him, then, staring into his eyes for a moment.  And then he kisses Andre softly.

“Best birthday ever,” Andre murmurs against Brooks’s lips.  Brooks laughs, and rolls off him to get rid of the condom.

“Shower?” Brooks asks, sitting on the edge of the bed and putting a hand on Andre’s knee.

“Only if it’s together,” Andre says.

Brooks just smiles and helps Andre off the bed.

 

.oOo.

 

Andre’s birthday was on a Tuesday, so of course they go to Chef Geoff’s.  Andre wasn’t out of class until 5:15, so Mike and Tom had gone a little earlier to grab a table by the bar.

He ordered his super mug, got carded, and grinned when Mike and Tom pretended to act shifty about his ID.  He sat through the birthday punches that Tom insisted on, and he was already halfway through supermug when Brooks swept into the bar, in his suit and nice overcoat and beanie pulled over his head.  He lit up when he sees Andre down towards the end of the bar, stopping to drop a kiss on his lips before settling into the chair they’d saved for him.

“Ew,” Tom whined, covering his eyes.  “Gross!”

“We never complained about you and Mike,” Brooks reminded him, moving his chair closer to Andre’s and holding the hand that Andre had left on top of the table.

“Just let them get through the new relationship glow,” Mike said, nudging Tom so hard he almost fell off his chair.

“How was work?” Andre asked, turning to Brooks and speaking a little quieter, ignoring Mike and Tom bickering across the table.

“Not too horrible,” Brooks replied, squeezing Andre’s hand.  “Getting close to the trial date for that car accident case, so we’ve all been getting everything set for that.”

“Think it’ll go well?”

“Yeah, I mean, our case is solid.  Never really know how it’ll turn out, though.”

Andre smiled and kissed him softly.  “You’ll do great.”

“And you?  Classes today go fine?”

“Yeah, just lots of notes,” Andre sighed.  “Test next week, too.”

“You’ll do great,” Brooks said, echoing what Andre had said to him.

“Are you two lovebirds done?” Tom asked loudly, leaning across the table to wave a hand in between them.  “Brooks, what’re you drinking?”

Brooks rolled his eyes and ordered a beer from the server that Mike had flagged down.  They drank and ate burgers and talked about Mike, Tom, and Andre’s classes, and Brooks’s job.  They talked about their schedules and deadlines for the rest of the week.  Andre and Brooks held hands, and Tom and Mike did, too.

And a couple hours later, after Andre’d drained two supermugs and already thanked AU for having a weird schedule that gives him Wednesday off, Brooks handed his card to their server before he leaned over to kiss Andre.

“I wish I had tomorrow off to spend with you,” Brooks said, thumb rubbing over the back of Andre’s hand.

“We’ve got Saturday,” Andre said.  “All day.”

Brooks kissed him again, leaning over the space between their chairs tangling his hand in Andre’s hair.

Suddenly, Andre remembered something.

“Hey, hey,” he said, pulling back.  “Lets take a picture.”

Brooks smiled while Andre handed his phone over to Mike, then got up and stood in the space next to Andre’s chair, resting his head against Andre’s and wrapping his arms around Andre’s shoulders.  Andre leaned back against him, looking to the side where Mike was sitting.

Mike took the picture, and Andre twisted around to kiss Brooks again.  He heard the click of his camera again, and pulled back with a blush.

He took his phone back, looking at the pictures Mike took.  It made him blush, to look at the picture of him kissing Brooks, his head tilted away from the camera and Brooks leaning into him.

He set the first picture, with Brooks’s arms around him, their heads leaning together, as his wallpaper.

**Author's Note:**

> (Brooks pls come back to DC i miss you)
> 
> join me in sin on tumblr @ somethingnerdythiswaycomes


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